


Don't Ever Be Sorry

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s05e18 The Pine Bluff Variant, MSR, msr fic, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Mulder and Scully post Pine Buff Variant. MSR.





	Don't Ever Be Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> There was a prompt on Tumblr I saw that inspired [this](https://mulders-boyish-enthousiasm.tumblr.com/post/167116254183/after-the-pine-bluff-variant-mulder-probably-had) and wanted to take a crack at. It read: "Hurt/comfort again? Does he push her back because he doesn’t want to bother her? Or something other completely? Remember… Broken finger, gun to the head, undercover… How did Mulder get back to work after all this?”

He could feel the gravel cutting into his knees beneath his black panst. His arms ached from keeping them behind his head. His broken fingers screamed in pain as they interlaced like nails alining a coffin. He closed his eyes. Cold metal pressed to the base of his skull in the same spot Scully had her chip.

Scully.

He closed his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. She would never know. She would never know.

The hammer cocking back. His heart skipped when he heard the pistol fully load.

Scully. Jesus. I love you, he wanted to scream out. He had wanted to scream it since the cancer but was too scared. Just like now. Maybe to die a coward was fitting.

BANG!

Mulder jumped and rolled off his leather couch in the process and onto the floor. The hand with broken fingers searched the base of his neck and winced at the spot where the gun had been pushed it against his skin. It burned. He blinked his eyes to clear them. He could hear the dull sound of an infomercial. The blue light from the tv invaded his living room.

Shit.

He pushed up himself into a sitting position. The couch rested against his back stiffly. He rested his face in his broken hand and closed his eyes.

Skinner did not really give him a choice. They made him take leave from work because of the ordeal. He had seen the therapists in BSU. He bullshitted his way through the psych evaluations. They just said he needed some time and Skinner's order ensured it.

But he wasn't okay.

Scully knew right away. She always knew.

She had picked him up from Quantico and BSU to drive him home. He sat in the passenger seat of her Toyota Corolla, silent and still, watching the cars pass them on I-95 as Rolling Stones played quietly on her radio.

"If I don't get some shelter," it sang, "Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away."

Scully fidgeted uncharacteristically before finding her voice. "Mulder," she began. His eyes darted to her in his peripheral. Good, she had his attention. "I know, I can imagine, how much you have been through. If you want me to spend some time..."

"I'm good, Scully." He cut her off. "Just peachy." He turned his head and gave her the fakest of fake smiles. "You'll probably love me not being in your hair for a week."

That car ride had been marred by uncomfortable silence and a caustic snap on his hand which she instantly brought her icy exterior back for protection. They did not even exchange words as she dropped him off at his apartment.

That was two weeks ago.

Mulder pushed himself up onto his couch and tried to lay down again. Since that day, neither called each other and he was left to decay in his self-imposed exile from the world and one thing he cared about. He lay lifeless on the leather couch, imagining the maggots and vultures making food of his dead body if he had been shot back there.

She would have never known. He kept flashing back to the dream. He always remembered her. His thoughts would have been of her.

Unsure of his decision, but a decision made nonetheless.

. . . .

Scully twisted fitfully in her bed when she heard a quick rasping at her door. Her mind flashed briefly to Poe.

"Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore,'" she muttered and dragged herself from the bed.

"Scully."

She stopped midstep before the door, unsure of how to proceed.

"Scully, I'm so sorry."

His voice carried such a heavy sadness that she was on the verge of tears herself at the tone. She quickened her pace and pulled her door open. Mulder lay sprawled next to her door like a puppet without its strings. He looked up at her, tears streaming down his face, and he suddenly looked away. 

"I'm sorry." His breath hitched. He swayed the hand with the broken fingers. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have come here."

"No. Mulder. Stop." She kneeled and grabbed the broken hand gingerly. Scully kissed his knuckled and gazed into his hazel eyes. "You are right where you belong."

There were tears in eyes, glistening like morning dew on leaves. New hope. Forgiveness. "I don't belong here," he mumbled. It was one weak attempt to push her away. "You should..."

"What," she whispered. She played with his hair with gentle fingers. Mulder closed his eyes and relished her healing touch. "Because my partner is a jackass and acts a like a child doesn't mean I don't care about him. Stay here tonight. It looks like you haven't slept in days."

"Scully," he began hoarsely, the will of confession pressed against his vocal cords, grounding his voice to a weak whisper. "My last thoughts were of you. How much I love you. I just wanted you to know that."

She had been kneeling but now sat back on her heels. If emotions could cause physical pain, she would be laying under a grand piano crushed to death with her revelations. Her hands methodically caressed his cheek, played with his hair, wiped his tears. "Oh, Mulder."

Her chest seemed incapable of breathing as her own tears came streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away. "I'm so sorry for everything I have done to you."

"No. Don't ever be sorry."

She yanked his lanky form to his feet and guided him awkwardly into her apartment. He stumbled over his own feet and almost brought both of him down as most of his weight was supported by his petite partner. But she was stronger than she looked. She was always the stronger one.

To his surprise, she guided him into her bedroom and to the left side of her bed. She eased him back against the pillow, smoothing his hair away from his brow and kissing his lips lightly. She took off his jacket, shoes, and socks. He heard her mumble something before leaving for a brief moment. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Scully's home and it enveloped him. Then he felt the weight in the bed shift and light fleece blanket draped around him.

"This blanket," he mumbled, "I got you this blanket."

His senses were struggling to comprehend these new feelings and emotions as she wiggled underneath the blanket next to him. Warmth. Safety. Scully.

"The very same you bought for me with my cancer."

She was close. Unbearably close. Then a small arm snaked around him. A strong, lithe leg. The coiled around him like a snake. He grabbed her arm and turned slightly onto his side, enjoying the new warmth and security. "Be the big spoon to my little spoon, Scully."

He felt a series of feather kisses along his neck. "Anytime, Mulder."

He felt the tears come suddenly. The pain and stress leave him in one big tsunami, all throughout, Scully kept coiled around him, kissing him occasionally. "I love you," she whispered in his ear. "I love you."

His crying grew worse before it grew into some heaves for breath and a stray tear. Scully's small form never let him go. She arched her neck to kiss his lips. "I always got you, Mulder."

He closed his eyes and felt the emotions in his chest waging control like waves in a hurricane. "I love you, Scully. I love you so much."

In response, she just kept holding him. "When this night passes and we find a new dawn, we can move forward," she soothed. More kisses. "Until then, I got you, just like you do for me."


End file.
